


Tommorow's Dawn

by ADyingFlower



Series: Noctis Appreciation Week [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Prophetic Dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-20 03:43:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11912505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADyingFlower/pseuds/ADyingFlower
Summary: Prompt: DreamsRegis has foretelling dreams





	Tommorow's Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Eh, I kinda just wanted to get it out of the way more than anything else. I might continue this someday.

Noctis Lucis Caelum is born into the world on August 30th, six pounds seven ounces with the brightest blue eyes the world has ever seen. 

Regis falls in love the instant he holds the frail infant in his arms, cleaned and freshly swaddled by the Citadel doctors. The child - his child - wails heartily, new and terrified to this strange world. 

"Hey there, little bean sprout." He whispers to Noctis, smiling fondly at how the wails quieted down, evidently recognizing his voice. His little head bobbed everywhere, trying to find the source of the voice he's heard over the past nine months. "Your daddy loves you, you know that?" 

He grins over at Aulea, who's watching the scene with a tired smile, drained with bangs plastered with sweat. “He looks just like you, you know. If it weren’t for the pregnancy thing, I would have assumed you cloned him.” 

She sent him a playful glare. “Mighty ha ha, might have well cloned him, would have let me skip out of the morning sickness.” 

“Oh don’t be that way. What, extreme back pain and never ending nausea not good enough for you?” 

Aulea rolled her eyes, stretching out her arms for her son. “You kings are all such pains, really.” But she was smiling all the same, curling a protective arm around their -  _ their baby boy.  _

Regis had ten months to get used to it, you would think he at this point wouldn’t tear up at the mere thought of this perfect creature his wife and him created. Aulea stroked past Noctis’s head fuzz, cooing contently and looking happier than he think he’s ever seen her. 

It was a good thing, considering Aulea’s recent ordeal, the one blight of blackness hovering on the horizon, waiting for the exact moment the glow surrounding them faded just the tiniest bit. 

Both of them didn’t talk about it. That Aulea was this close to losing a life she would have gladly given for her son to open his eyes for the first time, but she didn’t die. She was alive, safe, and whispering to Noctis all the troubles the two of them would get into when he grew older. 

They didn’t talk about how Regis dreamed the night before, a tumultuous dream that had him calling the Citadel's doctors in the midst of the night and forcibly stirring his heavily pregnant wife. It had felt selfish at the time, practically begging Aulea to go under the scalpel a week earlier than the due date. 

Yet - 

He still remembers the hushed conversations when Aulea was still groggy, of  _ obstructive labor _ , that if they had - they had tried to do this on her actual due date, she would have most defiantly died, if not bringing Noctis with her.

But the c-section had worked, and Aulea was with him. Noctis was with him. His family was whole and unshattered, the mantel of King falling off for just this golden moment. 

All because of a dream. A dream in which the life in Aulea’s eyes were flickering as the heart monitor never ceased it’s one unending note and the frantic rush of the doctors as they tried to save her. 

In the dream, in the one of many fragments but yet so prevalent, the room never stopped the shrill siren call of death until he heard his son’s wail. In other variations of it, Aulea was silent and washed of all color as the doctors placed a sheet over heard, and there was no wails, no soft blankets to welcome a new life, just a coffin and a smaller one to match it. 

Greif threatened to overwhelm him at even the thought of losing them, and as if Aulea knew what he was thinking she only had to beckon him with a finger, not even bother to look up at him. But he followed all the same, because his wife who he would have fought the seven kingdoms for was calling for him, and he would have never refused that. 

“Watch,” She murmured, wiggling her finger near his hand and both of them watching in sheer delight as Noctis grasped it in his tiny hand. It was only an instinct, yet - 

For this moment, he would squeal over his son and send the promised pictures to Clarus and Cor and worry about that premonition later, instead focusing on the here and now with his family whole by his side.

 

* * *

 

Another dream happened when Noctis was five. 

_ “By the Covenants awakened, the six have seen the coming of the prophesied hour.” _

_ “Only at the throne can the chosen receive it, and only at the cost of a life: his own.”  _

_ “The King of Kings shall be granted the power to banish the darkness, but the blood price must be paid.”  _

_ “To cast out the usurper and usher in dawn’s light will cost the life of the chosen.” _

_ “Many sacrificed all for the King, so must the King sacrifice himself for all.”  _

Regis woke with a scream.

 

* * *

 

The King watched his son tottle after Aulea, his mother laughing when he latched around her skirts and refused to let go. She leaned down and swooped him up in the air, casually balancing him on her hip and dropping kisses all along his face, which Noctis only loudly complained about and scrunched up his face in disgust. 

_ “But the blood price must be paid.” _ Bahamut’s voice rang hollowly in his head. His son - his toddler son who hated his vegetables and whose face lit up every time Regis walked through the door, was fated to - was fated to. 

Nausea rode low in his throat. Etro… 

The prophecy, the ancient words spoken of the chosen one who would usher in a new dawn. The prophecy never mentioned him dying. 

When? When would his son die? A couple years from now? When he’s a teenager? A couple months? 

He swallowed thickly as Noctis wandered the garden, roughly picking the flowers with no finesse that would have the gardener roaring after him and putting them into two identical piles. Aulea practically lit up as Noctis handed her one of the bouquets, Noctis even kissing her cheek, however sloppy that was. 

Then Noctis staggered over to him and dropped the second bouquet in his lap. “For you!” 

Regis stared distantly at the flowers on his lap. He couldn’t… 

He couldn’t let them kill his son. 

“Thank you Noctis,” He murmured hoarsely, gathering up the flowers neatly. Noctis frowned up at him, before patting his knee consolingly. 

“Love you daddy.” Noctis sang, because that’s what his parents always told him when he was sad, so surely the reverse would work? 

Regis closed his eyes, cupping his son’s face and laying the briefest kiss on his forehead. “Love you too, little bean sprout.” 

_I will always be with you_  
  
  
  


  
  



End file.
